


Love the Running

by sue_denimme



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sue_denimme/pseuds/sue_denimme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tenth Doctor's reasons for trying to escape his destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love the Running

He's not entirely sure what he is so afraid of.

"Your song is ending." Could mean anything. All right, who is he fooling? It clearly means death, his death. But so what? He's died before, lots of times now, and been reborn. It's not easy, it's not pleasant, and each new self seems to be taking longer and longer to settle into.

Used to be a snap. First one, he was up and blithely running about again in no time. He vaguely recalls a pair of confused companions -- Polly and Ben, wasn't it? -- but otherwise it was pretty much as if nothing had happened. Second one -- okay, that was a bit wonky, but he'd been forced so that was to be expected. Third one, not too bad. It was from the fourth one onward that they'd begun to get difficult.

But it's not the blinding agony of change, the post-regeneration sickness, the mental instability, nor the inconvenience of having to choose new clothes that he dreads.

It's losing _this_ life, _this_ body.

To be sure, it's had its ups and downs, its vulnerabilities, and so many quirks and tics he's not completely certain he's discovered all of them even now. But as far as the physical aspect goes, it really is his best yet, in his opinion. Incredible hand-eye coordination. Youthful enough to easily handle all the athletic demands of his lifestyle. Mature enough to command respect. Attractive and magnetic, judging by all the snogs.

And it's more than that.

This body has always felt more awake, more _alive_ than any other he's had. All his senses seem sharper (well, maybe not vision, but with the glasses, it's molto bene). He's more telepathic than he's ever been. He's rediscovered a zest for experience, for wonder, that he had never thought he could feel again, especially after the Time War.

This body is about feeling. Feeling clamoring to be felt. Emotions and impulses and passions always just under the surface, refusing to be kept in. The need to talk, to touch, to share himself, to fling himself in and soak up all the life he can. It's heady, overwhelming, intoxicating. How can he willingly give this up?

It's even worth all the low points, the mistakes, the guilt, the regret. Harriet Jones. Queen Victoria. Reinette. Mickey. The Ood. Elton Pope's mother and girlfriend. Torchwood. The Racnoss. Joan. The Master. Astrid. Pompeii. Jenny. River. Midnight. Adelaide. Rose. Jack. Martha. Donna.

So he does what he does best. He runs. Faster than ever before. He loses himself in the adventure, until the buzzing in his head starts to grow too insistent to ignore, and he leaves poor Bess screaming after him in their bed, and he goes to a beach party on Barcelona for a few banana daiquiris before finally setting course for the Oodsphere. By then he's almost convinced himself that maybe he can simply deal with whatever it is they want and maybe, _maybe_ this body can go on running forever.

By the time he steps out into the snow, he knows it can't. He knows it's time.

He pastes on a grin and swaggers forward anyway. Another thing he's good at.

Whatever happens, it's been brilliant.

 

~end


End file.
